The Life and Times of Tom Marvolo Riddle
by moviemaster
Summary: This story plans to encompass Voldemort's life from the time he meets Dumbledore in book 6 up until the time he attacks Harry on Halloween.  T for now, but rated M for later.


Chapter 1

To say he was a "normal" resident of the orphanage would be laughable. Tom Riddle has never been normal. The women of the orphanage, those who had been there long enough anyways, could remember the strange happenings around him since before he could walk. Things moving themselves, bursts of light, those had all become expected around him. It wasn't until he was five, though, that things had gone from weird to terrifying for the staff.

Another boy, James Popplewell, had tripped Tom out in the playground area. He had claimed it was an accident, and no one really knew for sure. No one had been around for the tripping; no one came until the screaming started.

Tom claimed he hadn't done anything, and all the other children who were around said that he hadn't touched James; he had just gotten up and turned to glare at him. The women of the orphanage knew that glare, as well. For a five year old boy to be able to look at you like that was unnerving.

When Mrs. Cole had arrived at the scene, the boy had been bleeding profusely from both ears. When they had taken him to the hospital, it had been determined both of his ear drums had burst, and there had been an investigation into the orphanage to determine what exactly they were doing that would cause such an injury. No explanation had been found.

There were small incidents throughout the years, though most of the other children had taken to giving Tom as much space as possible. Anytime someone would manage to cross him, something bad would inevitably happen.

Just in the past few months, Billy Stubb's rabbit had been found hanging from the rafters. Tom claimed to have had nothing to do with it, even though Billy swore it had to have been him. Of course, they couldn't punish Tom for something he couldn't possibly have done.

Then, on the summer outing just three weeks ago, Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson had disappeared with Tom for several hours. When they came back, Tom had seen nearly giddy with excitement, yet Amy and Dennis didn't say a word for several hours. When they did speak, it was as though they were traumatized. They covered for whatever Tom had done, however. They always did.

Mrs. Cole couldn't believe her luck in this man, Dimple-whatever, wanting to take Tom away for the majority of the year. Such were her thoughts as she led this man towards Tom's room.

Tom sat alone in his room, trying to understand this new thought he had. He had been glaring at Mrs. Cole earlier in the day for telling him he couldn't go outside with the other children, when she had glanced up at him from across the room.

He had felt fear, her fear, to be exact. He had always suspected that Mrs. Cole, and all the other women, were weary of crossing him, but he had never actually FELT what the others were feeling. He felt slightly dirty from it, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. He had later tested it on another of the children in the orphanage, Eric Whalley. Eric had chicken pox, but Tom wasn't worried about that. He had never gotten them, despite the best efforts of the women in charge trying to infect him when he was younger. He had went to "visit" him, and he had been able to not only feel the pain (and much to his enjoyment, fear) of the other boy, but he had actually been able to force him to pick at his own scabs if he held eye contact for long enough.

These were new, and incredibly interesting talents he had just discovered. His thoughts turned to how to better exploit them in the future as he heard footsteps coming down the hall.

"Tom, you have a visitor," said Mrs. Cole as she opened the door to Tom's room.

Tom glanced up and saw one of the strangest men he had ever seen. He immediately made eye contact with the man, trying to see what the man was thinking, but he felt like he hit a lead wall.

"This is Mr. Dumberton – sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you—well, I'll let him do it," said Mrs. Cole as she closed the door behind her.

Tom felt the man size him up in just a quick glance. He could sense a power radiating off of this man like he had never felt before. For the first time that he could remember, Tom felt slightly afraid. His thoughts began to race as to why this man had been brought to meet him. Had Mrs. Cole finally gotten tired of him? Were they going to take him away?

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore as he approached the boy, hand extended in greeting.

Tom hesitated, again trying to get a feel on this new man's mood and thoughts, then decided it was best to go along with it for now, and took his hand. The man then took a small wooden chair next to his bed and sat down, facing him.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?"

That was it, alright. Some head doctor coming to take him away. He felt his anger grow inside of him.

"Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did SHE get you in to have a look at me? " His anger started to slowly boil over as he pointed towards the door where he knew Mrs. Cole was silently listening.

"No, no," responded Dumbledore, a small smile playing at his lips.

"You're lying!" said Tom, rising from his bed. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell me, NOW!" he intoned, for the first time in his life lashing out with his mind, trying to get more of a feel for what this man, "Dumbledore", was playing at.

Dumbledore sat there, still with a pleasant smile on his face. Tom began to feel unnerved, and to feel out of control of the situation. He was not accustomed to feeling out of control. All the other children listened to him without question out of fear, and the women were blind to what wasn't done right in front of their faces. He decided to try a different tact.

"Who are you?" he said, sitting back down.

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work for a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at the school – your school, if you'll accept the invitation."

That was it. A "school". An asylum, he knew it. He jumped up again in anger, unable to control himself.

"You can't lie to me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of coruse—well, I'm not going, I mean it! That old hag's the one who should be there! I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you the same bloody thing!"

"I am not from the asylum, Tom. I am a teacher and, if you would kindly calm down and take a seat, I will tell you all about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come, no one is going to force you—"

"I'd like to see them try," Tom replied with a small laugh. They had tried to make him do things for years, and no one had ever been able to, the mere thought was almost funny.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued as though Tom had said nothing, "is a place for people with special abilities—"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know you're not mad, Tom. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It's a school for magic."

Tom froze. He had often wondered if there was a name for the things he could do, and if there were other people out there who could, too. Maybe someone in his family had been able to? Would it be possible someone from his family might be alive?

"Magic?" Tom whispered back.

"That's right, Tom." The man responded.

"It's… it's magic the things I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

Tom felt his heart start to race.

"All sorts of stuff. I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who bother me. I can make them hurt if I want."

He was shaking from the excitement. Here was someone who might be able to help him understand. Here was someone who would finally be able to teach him how to do the things he can do better.

"I knew I was different," he said, staring at his hands. "I knew I was special. Always, I've always known there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, and through his voice, Tom could tell he may have said too much. "You are a wizard."

"Are you a wizard too? " He asked, slowly regaining control of himself.

"Yes, Tom."

"Prove it!" He said, again lashing out with his mind, trying to see what Dumbledore was thinking. "Tell the truth!"

"If, as I take it, you are accepting our offer to attend—"

"Of course I am!" Tom interrupted.

"Then you will address me as 'professor' or 'sir'"

Tom felt a surge of anger, but schooled it quickly. He responded to Dumbledore in his most innocent tone.

"I'm sorry, sir. I meant—please, Professor, could you show me?"

Tom watched as Dumbledore pulled a long stick out of his pocket, and pointed it at his wardrobe.

His excitement turned to shock, then to anger as his wardrobe burst into a towering inferno of flames. It looked as though the entire orphanage would burn down around him, but he wasn't concerned about that. All of his things were on fire. He turned to yell at Dumbledore, but just as quickly as the flames had appeared, they had vanished. His wardrobe was completely unharmed.

Tom stared at the stick in awe. He pointed at it, unable to control himself.

"Where can I get one of those?" He asked.

"All in good time, my boy. I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe, though," responded Dumbledore.

Tom could hear a faint tapping and rattling, and knew immediately that it was his box of toys from the other children. He felt the blood drain from his face. No one was supposed to know about those, those were his special toys, his trophies, his secrets. It was proof that he was better than everyone else. The fact that this Dumbledore had found out about them terrified Tom, for the first time in years he felt fear that was his own.

"Open the door, Tom," said Dumbledore.

Tom froze, but realized he had best just play along. He went to the wardrobe. Opening the door, he pulled down the box with his trophies. He could feel the buzzing of them in the box.

"Is there anything in there that doesn't belong to you, Tom?"

Tom felt his anger bubble up again, but realized that in this battle, at least for the time being, he was outmatched. This man had walked in, turned his life upside down, and taken control out from underneath him in a matter of minutes. He knew now that this man was someone who he should not cross, and could sense that the pleasant exterior masked a very powerful force the man could weild.

"Yes, sir. I suppose there is."

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Tom took the lid off of the box, and without a second glance towards them dumped them unceremoniously onto his bed, laying his most prized possessions to bear before Dumbledore. They immediately stopped vibrating.

"You will return those to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore as he deposited his wand back into his pocket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Tom felt an odd sensation as he stared into the man's eyes. He could feel the man's mind pressing into his own, and quickly pushed back, not allowing the man access.

"Yes, sir," He said, breaking eye contact.

"At Hogwarts, we teach you not only to use magic, but also to control it. You have—inadvertently, I am quite sure—been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor allowed at our school. You are not the first, and you will certainly not be the last to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel it's students, and the Ministry of Magic—yes, Tom, there is a Ministry—will punish lawbreakers most severely. All new wizards must accept that, upon entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," Tom responded again, growing bored with the conversation, and wanting to get started in learning right away. He began to put the objects back into his box when something dawned on him that made his heart sink.

"Sir, I don't have any money," Tom said in defeat.

"That is remedied easily enough," Dumbledore said, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at your new school for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You may have to get some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but—"

"Where do you get spellbooks?" Tom interrupted, having taken the money pouch from Dumbledore and pulling out a big gold coin.

"In Diagon Alley," Dumbledore replied. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything—"

"You're coming with me?" Tom asked in exasperation. He didn't enjoy being around this man, and was quite ready to say goodbye to him.

"Certainly, if you—"

"But I don't need you! I'm used to doing things for myself. I go around London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley, sir?" He said quickly.

Dumbledore handed Tom an envelope, and directed him to a small pub in downtown London named "The Leaky Cauldron".

"Once you get there, ask for Tom the barman. That should be easy to remember as he shares your name," said Dumbledore, some of his normal cheeriness returning.

Tom felt his lip lift in a sneer. "You dislike your name, Tom?"

"There are a lot of Toms," he replied. His thoughts then made a connection, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle, too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," Dumbledore replied with tenderness-laced words.

"My mother can't have been magic, or else she wouldn't have died," said Tom, thinking of how he could now use his powers to make it so he wouldn't die. "It must have been him. So, when I've got all my stuff, when do I come to this 'Hogwarts'?"

Dumbledore smiled at the boys excitement. "The details are on the second piece of parchment in that envelope. You will leave from Kings Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too," he responded.

Tom nodded in response.

Dumbledore moved as though to leave, and Tom realized he had not told him about the ability he liked the most.

"I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the coutry on trips. They find me, they whisper things. Is that normal for a wizard," Tom asked, hoping there was something special about him even amongst the wizards.

Dumbledore hesitated. Tom knew he must have said something to stop the old man in his tracks.

"It is unusual," his voice trailed off for moment, "but not unheard of."

Though Dumbledore kept his tone casual and features schooled, Tom once again felt the slight push against his mind. He realized this time that it must have been Dumbledore trying to get into his mind as he did others, and again pushed back in time to keep him out.

"Goodbye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

With that, Dumbledore turned and left the room.

Tom waited a moment, then rushed over to his window to watch him leave. Dumbledore exited the grounds and turned left down the street. After a quick glance left and right, he disappeared with a quick spinning motion.

Tom was more excited than he had ever felt in his life. To believe he was a wizard, a WIZARD, and that he would be going away to learn all about how to use his magic. He couldn't wait to come back during the summer so he could use what he learned on the other orphans. He believed Dumbledore when he said that thievery would not be allowed in Hogwarts, and with that man there he would not want to do anything that crossed the line, but surely they couldn't track him outside of the school.

He turned and opened his envelope, shifting through the directions to Diagon Alley. It looked as though it was less than a mile from the orphanage. With a quick check to ensure he had the money bag, list of supplies (which, he noticed with much excitement, included a wand) he quickly exited the orphanage and set to the streets.

Authors note: This is my first chapter, and I've had most of it written for some time. I just now put the finishing touches on it to get it out to you.

I plan on tracking Tom, or as he will call himself in several chapters, Voldemort all the way up until Halloween Night when he attacks the Potters.

I warn you, I am 24, have a full time job, a wife, a step son and a kid on the way. I may not be able to get this cranked out in any kind of a timely fashion. I may never finish. So, if you don't want to continue with a story that might never get finished, then please stop now.

Comments and questions are appreciated. As I move on with this i might ask for an editor, but I don't have the slightest clue when I'll post another chapter.


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